"Two weeks. They are in the Outer Banks now, sailing this way. Then we’re off on a tropical adventure.”
"Where are you going?"
"I think we’re going to hit every island chain all the way down to San Montego.” She smiled. "I'm going to drink strawberry margaritas, shop, lay out, and do a whole lot of nothing.” Dreams of paradise filled her teal eyes.
"I'm sure you'll have a blast," I said.
Harlan sat at the end of the bar, sipping a longneck. "Who's gonna be here to mix my drinks?"
Teagan's face scrunched as she gave the old Marine a look. "All you ever drink is beer."
"I know, but nobody twists the tops like you.”
"Aw, you’re sweet."
We shot the breeze, filled our bellies, and kicked around theories.
My phone buzzed with a call from Isabella. “I’ve been doing a deep dive on the Vault. Whoever did this had help.”
“Do tell.”
19
“Someone got in and gained access at an admin level,” Isabella said. “They were able to reassign biometrics. They tried to cover their tracks, and they did a pretty good job of it, but they left breadcrumbs. I hacked into the system. It looks like somebody left a vulnerability open for the thieves. That was done under James’s login credentials.”
My brow knitted with confusion for a moment. Then it all made sense. “James was the inside man. He fired at one of the assailants, but missed to make it look like he was resisting. They returned fire and either hit him on purpose or on accident. I’m beginning to think they hit him on purpose to cut the trail. He was a loose end.”
“Possible. Or somebody just stole his login credentials,” Isabella said. “But he did make several phone calls to a burner phone. I’m trying to see if I can tie that burner phone to anyone, but it only pops up on the grid at public locations. I’ll keep you posted.”
I thanked her for the information and ended the call, then filled JD in on the situation.
After we ate, we left Diver Down and set out to find Shane. I really didn't want to connect him to this, but that sinking feeling in my stomach told me I was on the right track—that voice that speaks the truth. The one you never want to listen to, but know you should.
I ran Wade's address from the online portal, then we said our goodbyes to Teagan. We left the bar, and hurried across the lot to the Porsche. Jack slid behind the wheel, fired up the engine, and we pulled out of the lot.
Wade lived in a small poured concrete house on Dawson Street. It wasn't much to speak of, but everything in Coconut Key was pricey, even the shit boxes. It looked like he was renting the place, according to the tax records.
The yard was surrounded by a chain-link fence, and two palm trees stood guard over the property.
Jack pulled to the curb a few doors down, and we surveilled the house. There were two cars parked out front.
With a voice full of doubt, Jack said, "And what exactly are we hoping to accomplish?"
I shrugged. "We sit on them for a while, see where they go, what they do. Maybe they're plotting another heist."
"Or maybe they had nothing to do with the Vault.”
“Look, I don’t want to believe it either.”
Through the online portal, I ran the plates of the two cars parked in front of the house. One of them belonged to Wade, the other to Garrett Townsend. I ran Garrett's background. He was a three-time loser—assault and battery, burglary, armed robbery. He caught a lucky break on the first two. The charges weredismissed. He pled the armed robbery down and served eight years. He’d been back out on the streets for five and had stayed out of trouble. And bystayed out of trouble, I mean he hadn’t gotten caught. Yet.
Garrett was big and a little tubby. 6’1”, 230 pounds. From his mug shot, he had a slick head, a square jaw with a heavy shadow, and dull brown soulless eyes. Garrett looked dumb as a stump, but he had fists like cinderblocks and wasn't afraid to use them.
I showed JD his mug shot.
"Well, he looks friendly," he said dryly.
"These guys are up to no good. I'm telling you."
